


Strength

by Virtual_Reality



Series: Steve and Bucky through the years [29]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Anal Sex, Anxious Bucky Barnes, Beau (the doggo), Bottom Bucky Barnes, Bucky Barnes Feels, Bucky Barnes Recovering, Flirting, Kissing, Lonely Bucky Barnes, M/M, Making Out, Not Canon Compliant, Protective Bucky Barnes, Separation Anxiety, Smoking, Stitches, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Worried Steve Rogers, farmers market, therapy dogs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-13
Updated: 2019-03-13
Packaged: 2019-11-13 05:21:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18025484
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Virtual_Reality/pseuds/Virtual_Reality
Summary: Part of a series





	Strength

Wednesday, Bucky was well awake by three, so he called Beau up on the bed, and fell asleep again, which was a mistake, because when morning actually came, he felt like death itself

It was a dreary morning, smog hanging thick and grey over the streets giving everything an overall air of sluggishness. Bucky has a cup of coffee and a cigarette before he slid into his desk, and he doesn't even bother trying to shake the feeling of melancholy from his shoulders.

When Miss Potts came in for work, James gave her a few minutes to clock in and get everything settled before knocking lightly on her door. He asks what order she wants to put in for breakfast, and she looks at him in that sympathetic way that always makes him think she knows something he doesn’t. He shoots Steve a text just in case, asking if he was okay, and sneaking a few glances at some online news coverage, which had thinned out to nothing over the past three weeks, and offered no answers for the questions buzzing around his mind.

Bucky's too stressed to eat when their breakfast arrives, so he shoves his in the break room fridge, and then it's phone calls for days. Only three more days until the gala, and Bucky swears if Steve isn't there, he's not even going.

He works steadily, until Miss Potts emerges, requests a trip to the bank, and Bucky is more than happy to kill some time driving her around. And they do, nearly forty minutes in travel time alone - both ways - and for once, Bucky doesn't mind the traffic in the car. Of course he'd prefer to take the bike on a normal day, but it was fine. The car was fine. Even preferred when the clouds burst, pouring thick, heavy rain down on them. It rained about twenty minutes, then the sun came out of absolute nowhere, and made it so unbearably hot and steamy that James would gladly take the rain back.

The humidity made the air feel too thick to breathe as he stands on the rooftop, smoking a cigarette during his lunch hour. The sun beat down cruelly, and he watched waves of distorted steam rise from the haphazardly paved rooftops. He still hadn’t heard from Steve.

When he steps back inside, the entire building has come to life, and there's so much noise, Bucky feels uncomfortable. He felt like he'd missed something. Like he didn't know something important, and that was never a good feeling. He goes down to the cafe immediately, and stays close to Miss Potts, ready first and foremost to defend her, but trying to catch the gist of some of the conversation as they walked back.

They're almost to the office when he spies Sam, who was on standby for backup, and his heart leapt up in his throat. He makes it to his office before his knees weaken, and crashes at his desk a few minutes, turns on the tv, hoping for a news report that wasn’t there, then walking to the bathroom to splash some cool water on his face.

He takes a few minutes to breathe. Evaluate the state of his mind. Try to remember some tips from therapy. Something about breathing. Box breathing? He didn't quite remember, but Beau was in the office. He just needs to get back to the office. He runs his hands through his hair a few times, and walks on shaky legs back through the hallway. He checks his phone - still no text.

Steve has taken a long time to respond to texts before, but Bucky's suddenly angry and frustrated that he's not responding. Terrified something's happened, and what that would mean for him. How he would live without him.

Bucky paused before he got too worked up, and took a minute to count the things that were good about life. Made a mental list of all the nice things he was able to have now. All the reasons he was glad to be alive. A list that started with Steve, and Beau, and trailed off into soft serve ice cream, and wireless earbuds, and seemingly every song in the entire universe at his fingertips. Steve would come back. Bucky was sure of it.

The afternoon passed slowly, one minute dragging into the next, and by two o’clock he’s ready to call it quits. He prints off the security detail for Miss Potts, and she sends him down to the break room for a cup of coffee, and Bucky’s more than happy for the change of scenery. He takes both of their mugs, and walks through the polished hallways to the break room. It was empty, and he takes a minute to make a fresh pot, measuring the coffee grounds into the filter, and pouring water into the machine. It had just started to brew when he heard someone approach behind him.

“Pour me a cup, would you? Domestic flights are awful.”

“Fuck.” he jerks around, “Steve.”

He's wearing glasses and a baseball cap, and he's carrying a backpack slung over one shoulder. He offers a small smile. “Hey, Buck.”

“You're home.”

Steve drops his bag, and holds his arms open, but when Bucky starts moving, Steve meets him halfway, grabbing him in a rib-crushing embrace, nearly sweeping him off his feet in the process, leaving just his toes on the ground. “God, I missed you.”

“You're home.” Bucky repeats, face buried in his shoulder, fingers gripping in his white henley.

“Yeah, Buck.”

Bucky can't react, can't speak, feeling somehow disconnected from the what was happening, then, he hears himself laughing. He's laughing, and Steve squeezes him again - Steve’s home - pressing kisses to his shoulder, pulling him back to earth.

“What are you wearing?” Bucky laughs. He smells different. He smells like hotel soap, and soft pretzels. He pulls back to look him over, “Wow, you look great.”

“Don't act so surprised.” Steve teases, “I clean up nice.”

“Why didn't you call me?”

“Wanted to surprise you.” Steve says, brushing Bucky's hair back from his face. It was sticking to his skin. Was he crying? He wasn't sure.

“I hate surprises,” Bucky says, and doesn’t move, he just stays there. Just holds him. “I missed your stupid face.”

“Oh, Buck.” Steve chuckles affectionately.

Bucky laughs again, wraps an arms around Steve's neck, fingers of his free hand sliding from Steve’s jaw to his temple, a finger under his glasses to lift them out of his way, holding them in his fingertips as he claimed Steve’s lips, hooking his other arm around his shoulders, and pulling him down until Steve's hands are gripping his waist to hold him steady. His lips are chapped, but he tastes the same, and when they break apart, he's all questions, with no patience to ask them.

“Fuck. Why didn't you call?” Bucky lets out a shuddery breath, kisses him again, and as soon as there's space between them, he pushes their foreheads together, breathing softly against Steve's lips.

“And miss out on this beautiful reunion? Never.”

“Asshole.” Bucky wraps his arms around his waist. “I was so scared something happened.”

Steve kisses his nose. "I'm sorry. I should have said something."

Bucky sighs, and for a minute, they just stay in one another’s arms, listening to the soft hum of the a/c, someone’s high heels clicking down the hallway, the soft, ambient sounds of an office that didn’t belong in their moment, and helped them take a step back from each other, but tension pulled between them, and they both felt it - it was only half a reunion, the other half would have to wait until they were truly alone.

“I like these.” Bucky says, to cut the tension, taking the glasses from between his fingers, and sliding them back on Steve's face. “Keep them.”

Steve chuckles, “It's… Natasha.”

“It's a good look. Smart and sexy.” He smiles. "Kinda turnin’ me on.”

Steve fumbles a moment, takes the glasses off, face flushing slightly. “Sorry.”

“You're sorry?”

Steve chuckles, shrugs, a tiny blush creeping up his neck. “Aren't you working?”

“Oh,” Bucky sighs, checking his phone. “Why didn't you call?”

“Sorry.” Steve takes a breath, “in my defense, I have a meeting. I need to go. I'm not free, either.”

“Jerk”

“I know. I know, but… After?”

“Yeah.”

Steve slips into his office the moment finished with his paperwork. Before he even thinks about dealing with PR, he's got Bucky up against the wall. Before he can even shake the irritation that was the latest newscast, he's got Bucky's arms around his neck, and his lips, soft and sweet beneath his own. Before Steve can take a minute to complain about it all, Bucky's tongue is pressing past his lips, making him forget why he was even stressed in the first place.

Pepper walked in on them, stepping back out halfway through a question to give them a moment, and Bucky's not giving up an opportunity like that.

It's a long kiss. A slow, thorough one, and Steve's hands are resting on his waist, holding him against the wall, nearly tangled in the drapery. Bucky's actually kind of proud of him, because he was still so damn straight laced about PDA- there was always this feeling of restraint behind it - some small thread of hesitance that made it feel like he'd jerk back suddenly. Now was different. Now was perfect.

When they part, panting softly, they stand there a moment, straightening their clothes, and rearranging their hair, trying to make themselves presentable before Bucky has to slip into Pepper’s office to check with her before he clocked out. She let him go, of course, and Bucky grabs Steve’s hand, pulling him down the hallway, and into the elevator. Bucky expected Steve to be anxious to get him in bed, he was always wound up after a mission, and after so long, Bucky could feel Steve buzzing with anticipation whenever they touch. Feel his radiated heat as they stand so close in the elevator. What Bucky didn't expect was for Steve to drag it out, especially after the late night phone calls, some steamier than others, (And a single video chat that Bucky wished he'd thought of weeks ago.) But, they no more than get into their apartment than Steve announces that they need groceries.

What?

"All we've got is ketchup, protein powder, and orange juice."

"We can live off that a few days." Bucky whispers, reaching to cup Steve's face in his hands, though Steve wouldn't allow himself to be pulled down. He chuckles affectionately, kisses Bucky's palm, and then his forehead.

"Groceries first."

“All that build up to go shopping?”

“It’s only six.” Steve reasons, but pulls him into his arms. “You'll be too tired if we go after.”

“Do you promise?”

“We'll find out, won't we?” Steve grabs the keys off the counter with a smirk that hints at trouble, and a wink that promised it.

Bucky’s willing to bet it was the tensest grocery shopping trip in the history of the world. That, or Bucky had never considered the seductive qualities of a trip to the farmer’s market, which had become their venue of choice, especially since they were typically dog-friendly. Steve’s hand rests in the small of his back while Bucky tried to talk to a vendor selling bars of soap made of things like coffee, and rolled oats and goat milk. He barely makes it five minutes before he starts shoving money at her, thanking her profusely as he took his carefully wrapped soaps and placed them in his reusable canvas bag, along with a pint of local honey, and a bag of homemade dog treats, one of which Beau had already sampled, and approved of by doing a few of his tricks trying (and succeeding), to get another.

“You can’t seduce me in a farmer’s market.” Bucky whispers. as they step away from the soap vendor.

“I’m not tryin’ to.” Steve says, just as softly, but a small smile playing at the corners of his lips, and the fingers that slip into the back pocket of his jeans tell a different story entirely.

“Bullshit.” Bucky says, “Go over there, and buy some eggs.” he huffs softly, but can’t help the affectionate smile that touches his lips as steps up to a vegetable stand with a huge banner over the top that read organic. He fills two bags with fresh produce, and waves Steve over to carry a pallet of berries, freshly baked bread, and a quart of orange-ginger kombucha. They make two trips out to the car by the time Steve had finished looking through the jars of preserves, and two little kids ran up to them as Steve hauls the massive bag of the special high protein - no preservative dog food he buys for Beau over his shoulder, and Steve gently lowers the bag back down to the ground as he pulls his Captain-America-talking-to-kids personality out of his back pocket, and gives them his best smile.

They shyly ask to pet Beau, and Bucky laughs, elbowing him in the ribs, and giving them his permission.

Beau was excited to get the attention, and quite frankly, Bucky was glad that, for once, it wasn't Steve.

“That was really nice.” Bucky admits, fastening his seat belt as Steve switched the car into reverse. “I always feel so healthy when we come here.”

“Me too.” Steve agrees.

“When can we get pasta and chips and beer?”

Steve laughs, squeezing his hand. “Tomorrow. Right now, I gotta get you home, get you fed, and get you in bed.”

“I vote straight to bed.”

“We at least gotta put these groceries away.”

“Deal.”

It only takes minutes to get the groceries put away, and even less time for Steve to grab him around the waist, lift him to sit on the countertop, and go straight for his lips. It's heated from the start. Rough, passionate kisses, and Bucky can already tell Steve's lost in them. His hands gripping roughly at his hips, the mere force of his kiss physically pushing Bucky back until he's forced to break it. Cool Steve down for a moment.

“God, I want you so bad.” Steve whispers into his mouth, hands tugging blindly at his clothes as their lips crash frantically. It takes Steve's attention, and he cups Bucky's face little too roughly. Bucky moans in response, locking his legs around Steve's waist, and knotting fingers tightly in his hair.

Pens clatter to the floor as Bucky's elbow bumps the pencil cup that sits by the landline, and Steve grabs his thighs, pulling him close, bodies pressing together with such eagerness Bucky wonders of Steve's gonna try and take him right there - he really wishes he would. Bucky grabs the tail of his shirt, and with a sweep of his arms, the rest of the stationary crashes to the floor along with it.

“Off.” Bucky pants, tugging at Steve's shirt, and Steve can't take his hands off him long enough to rid himself of the white henley, so Bucky grabs it, pulling it up, and off. He doesn't get long to enjoy the view, just a second before their lips crash together, but when the path Bucky's fingers are making down his chest is interrupted by tightly wrapped bandages, Bucky breaks back abruptly, “Stop, stopstop, Steve.”

Steve pulls away from his neck, and Bucky sits up, shaking his head to clear it. 

Steve's chest is covered in large patches of half healed bruises, and his left side is patched up with gauze, waist wrapped with an elastic bandage.

What's wrong?" Steve breathes.

"What's wrong with you?" Bucky gestures to Steve's torso, “Explain.”

“Just a souvenir.” Steve says, “Nothin’ to worry about. They used those dissolving stitches, so I should be good to go.”

“Oh god.” Bucky whispers, “Stitches? How many?”

“Just a few.”

“I'm gonna see it, so you might as well be honest.”

“Fourteen.”

“Fuck, Steve. All the way across?”

"Just here." Steve pats the patch against his left side." This stuff." He taps the elastic bandage, "Just decoration. Keeps the bandage in place."

"Fuck, Steve..."

“I swear, I'm fine.” Steve protests. “It’s nothing. It doesn't even hurt.”

Bucky drags his hands through his hair, doing his best to calm himself down. “I don't care.” Bucky says, “You need to rest so you can heal.”

“Bucky, I'm really into this right now, can we talk about it later?”

“Oh, we'll talk later.” Bucky says, “I don't think you're gonna like it.”

“I can live with that.” Steve agrees, going for his lips again.

“Wait. Not here.” Bucky says, “If you wanna do this, we're doing it my way. I am not spending your first night back home in the hospital because you got a little horny.”

Steve raises his brows. “Yes, sir.”

“Don't get smart with me.” Bucky hops off the counter. “Bed. Go.”

They strip out of their clothes before getting in bed - to make things easier - but Bucky kept Steve’s hands off him, instructing him to sit up, and lean back against the headboard. He’d arranged all the pillows so his back would be well padded, cradled in the nest of pillows though it was hardly needed. Steve followed Bucky’s instruction, though, not liking the way his brows creased with worry as Steve leaned back into the pillows, and for one who has very limited memories of life before the war, Steve could see traces of his bossy caretaker in Bucky as he arranged the bedding to better cushion his torso.

“I'm honestly fine.” Steve whispers - and he was - mostly healed, but he’d been instructed (threatened) to keep the bandages on the full twenty four hours.

“I know you are.” Bucky says, and Steve knows when he’s being humored.

He sighs, settling in to let Bucky have his way.

Bucky straddles Steve's thighs, and kisses the center of his chest. “Do you need any painkillers?”

“I'm mostly healed up,” Steve says, “Don't worry.”

“I don't want you to be in pain.”

“I'm not in pain.” Steve promises, then adds. “I'll tell you if that changes. Okay?”

Bucky nods, but doesn't say anything more. He very carefully leans forward, and rests his cheek against Steve's shoulder.

Steve rubs his back for a few minutes, tracing a path from between his shoulders to the cute little Venus dimples in his lower back, and when Bucky sighs softly, sliding even closer, Steve's awareness of how very naked they both were moves back to the forefront of his mind.

He tucks his face into Bucky's neck, trailing a few kisses there, and waits for a sign that Bucky was ready before he let himself continue. It takes several minutes. Long, quiet minutes of soft, shoulder kisses, and Bucky's warm breath on his neck, the continuation of his gentle backrub, and the slight movement of Bucky's fingers in his hair.

Eventually, Bucky turns his face, and presses a soft, open mouthed kiss to his neck, and Steve's heart is already hammering from the anticipation, and he has to force himself to move slowly when he coaxes Bucky into a kiss.

Bucky can tell how anxious Steve is to get started. He can feel the careful restraint in the tightly coiled muscles of Steve’s shoulders, and he reminds himself just how intensely Steve feels things - how long he’d been waiting for this moment - how he was still half hard from fooling around in the kitchen, but patiently waiting for him to lead. “Sorry.” Bucky whispers, and pushes himself up on his knees, scooting closer so he could rock up against him.

Steve said nothing. His head fell back, and he gasps softly, and just like that, his front was lost, and Bucky could see the want in his flushed face, in the utter vulnerability of his posture, offering Bucky the control he’d so carefully held not twenty minutes ago.

There were two half empty bottles of lube left out on the nightstand, so Bucky doesn't even have to leave Steve's lap to grab It, and he's practiced as he warms the bottle in his hand, and Steve watches him, eyes heavily lidded, lips shiny and parted. His eyes flick up to Bucky’s and they share a quick kiss.

"Want me to-?" Steve trails off.

"Yeah." Bucky sighs, and Steve took the lube from his hands.

Bucky leans into Steve, catching his lips in a gentle kiss, wrapping both arms around Steve’s shoulders, and moaning softly into his mouth. He’d missed every part of this. The long, tender kisses, the gentle coaxing of his tongue, the little needy sounds he made as he explored his mouth, the warm, and steady presence of his body. His talented hands, strong enough to support his body as he gently fingered him open.

Bucky let his hands explore the planes of Steve’s body, fingers remembering the familiar skin beneath them, teasing a nipple, blunt nails leaving pale pink paths across his pecs, eliciting a delicate shiver from the man beneath him. Bucky skips over the bandage, hands gently exploring his waist, all the tight muscles that flex and tense under his hands. Bucky leans forward to push Steve back into the nest of pillows, keeping him there until he relaxed, rubbing gentle circles into his hipbone as he waited.

Steve was breathing hard, and the fingers he had inside him - two of them now, are curling just the right way, to brush his prostate, and it’s enough to make him dizzy. To send feverish waves of desire pulling through him, starting foggy in his head, and getting hotter, and tighter, and heavier and lower. Steve knew, he even offers a teasing little smile as his fingers wrap around the base of Bucky's dick. He gives a single stroke, and Bucky groans, body twisting in Steve’s arms, and he curses through his teeth.

“God, Bucky.” Steve breathes, giving another stroke, and Bucky’s more prepared for it now, but he still rocks his hips impatiently until Steve stops being such a goddamn tease.

“Want you inside me.” Bucky whispers, and as soon as Steve begins to move, Bucky leans forward against him, “No, not like that.” Bucky pants, and pulls himself up by Steve’s shoulders, using his teeth to pull the hair tie off his wrist, and pull his hair into a quick top knot. A few strands fall in his face, and Bucky blows them out of his way, getting up on his knees, “I’m takin’ care of you this time.”

Steve’s swear was barely a breath once he was inside Bucky, and his fingertips press into his waist as his hips buck up against him. “God, Bucky, you're so tight.”

Bucky chuckles around a breath, “Feels like it's been forever.” He licks his lips, and pulls himself up by Steve's shoulders, just an inch or so, before sinking back down. He grunts softly, rolling his hips a little, and Steve grabs his thighs, lifting him up, and Bucky chuckles softly, “Gimme a second, man.” Bucky teases, and Steve huffs softly in response.

Bucky kissed his lower lip, which was jutted out playfully, then bites it, which earns a soft grunt of approval, and a rough, clashing kiss.

Bucky takes control of the kiss as quickly as Steve had pushed into it, gripping his hair, and growling softly, and for a moment, they’re fighting for domination of the kiss, and, injury forgotten, Bucky’s pushing Steve against the headboard, the hand in his hair keeping his head tilted upward as he devoured his lips. Steve groans, and Bucky drinks it in, panting softly against his lips, and slowing it down as he recovered, biting Steve’s lips, and kissing him deeper, humming little moans around Steve’s tongue, and whining softly when Steve wraps a hand around his sensitive erection.

Their kisses dwindle as Bucky begins to move, but never cease, faces staying close, breath mingling as Bucky rode him, slowly, rocking his hips in gentle, sensuous movements, guided by the hands on his waist, fingers tightening and loosening, and he might be imagining the soft tremble in those fingers, but Steve can’t hide the uneven breaths that fall from his shiny, kiss swollen lips

Bucky missed this. Missed they way Steve’s breathing changed as he came undone. Missed the way his moans pitched lower as he became hoarse. Missed the way his chest would get as flushed as his face, and his hair would stick to his forehead as things got steamy. He missed the way Steve looked at him like the entire universe centered around him. Like he was everything. He missed the way Steve would try not to squeeze his eyes shut, would try to watch him the whole time, and end up with this pained looking squint.

Bucky doesn't protest when Steve pushes him down on his back, hauling him up by his hips, and fucking him down into the mattress. He just held on tight, and whines softly, jerking himself of between their bodies as the hot tension became too much, and locking his arms and legs around Steve's body as he came apart, whimpering some semblance of Steve's name.

Steve followed moments later, pinning him firmly to the bed, trapped firmly in a tight pocket of heat, and there was a time he wouldn't have been able to bear it, but now, he welcomes it, fingernails scraping down Steve's muscular back as he trembles, hips rocking lazily as he rode it out, whispering obscenities hotly in his ear.

Bucky missed this the most. The moments Steve was unhinged, trembling and vulnerable. The moments Steve would look at him, eyes filled with tearful adoration as they came down. The way Steve touched him like he was a dream, tracing his brow, brushing his cheek with his fingers, leans forward to kiss his lips. A soft, still kiss. Just a taste.

Bucky wouldn't call it lovemaking, but with the closeness, the tenderness, fingers lacing in the space between their bodies and feet tangling between the sheets, fingertips brushing his skin lightly, fully pleased, but still spellbound. This was intimacy. In every facet of the word.

After a while, Steve helps him clean up, then rearrange the bedding, even tossing him a fresh pair of boxers, and tugging on some himself, followed by a shirt to protect his bandages while they slept.

He stripped off the wet sheet, and they curled up together under a fresh one, and it was bliss. It was everything Bucky had missed. Everything he’d wanted for weeks, and he almost felt like crying because he was so warm, and so safe, and so comfortable.

“Bucky?” Steve whispers after a few minutes of this strange euphoria.

“Hmm?”

“I know we haven't talked about this in awhile,” Steve says, nuzzling against Bucky's hair. “But if you wanted to try sometime, I'm more than willing to bottom for you again.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Steve rubs his back. “Think about it.”

Bucky nods a little, and Steve pulls the blankets up over the both of them, kissing his forehead.

Bucky curls up tighter against him, but when Steve winces, let him go just as quickly.

“Oh my god, your stitches.”

“It's okay.” Steve whispers, coaxing him back against him. “ Adrenaline's wearing off. I think everything's okay.”

“We should have waited.” Bucky sighs.

“Maybe.” Steve allows, “I just couldn't help myself." He strokes Bucky's cheek, "We can cuddle, just a little gentler.”

Bucky cuddles up to his side, sighing softly.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Anything.” Bucky whispers.

“How did you do while I was gone? Really?”

Bucky sighs, “I'll admit I was a train wreck the first two weeks you were gone, but I did good last week. It's just this party we're having tomorrow. I'm really freaking out about it.”

“That's tomorrow?”

Bucky scoffs softly, head dropping against Steve's chest. “Gee, thanks for the support, babe.”

“I have an excuse.” Steve says.

“Save it.” Bucky sighs, patting his chest. “I've been working on this for months. You need to be there. Five o’clock, right here. You're my date. If you stand me up, I will divorce you.”

“You can't divorce me if we're not married.”

“How weird is that? Kinda sounds to me like you only have one choice left.”

“Sassy.” Steve smiles, “Point made, though." He allows, "But you could still ask me out properly. You know. Real sappy like? I'll say yes.”

“If I believed you were anything less than wrapped around my little finger, I'd show up at your door with flowers.” Bucky smirks, “It's a simple strategy, babydoll.” He leans forward to peck Steve's lips, “I've got you right where I want you.”

**Author's Note:**

> Put Your Dreams Away - Frank Sinatra


End file.
